The hum of the van's engine was the only sound for a long time.
Zack finally turned his gaze to the window. They had seamlessly passed through the strict security protocols of Hope Sector.
Outside the fence lay desolation. There were no birds, no trees with healthy leaves, just brittle trunks and dry grasses. The once-tarred roads were cracked and overrun with weeds twisting across the land. Rusted vehicles were abandoned on the road and its sides. Silence resonated. It was eerie, like they were the only living beings left.
Buildings stood crooked in the distance, windows shattered, doors dangling. Some structures had caved in completely, rubble left in piles like after a war. Zack leaned closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass.
This is what they kept from us.
He had always wondered if the stories were exaggerated, but seeing it up close, he realized they hadn't even told the worst of it.
"This used to be a city," Lily murmured, almost to herself. "You can tell from the road signs… what's left of them."
Zack didn't answer. He was watching a crumpled billboard they passed by, faded and torn but barely visible:
"Bright future, safe homes…"
A part of him ached. Was this the promise?
"Why would they take kids through this place?" Zack asked under his breath.
"To remind us what is waiting if we fail," Lily answered flatly.
The van kept moving. slow and steady. The desolation stretched on.
No laughter.
No light.
Just silence, broken only by the wheels rolling over the fractured road and the low humming of the van's engine.
Lily yawned, then rested her head on Zack's shoulder, ready to fall asleep. She needed strength to face whatever waited at Facility 9.
Suddenly, the van jerked to a stop. Lily lurched forward, but Zack caught her before she could hit her head.
"What's happening?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. At this point, there was no extra effort needed to stay awake. The van had stopped in an unfamiliar environment—that was enough to keep everybody on edge.
Ahead of them, something stood in the middle of the road. It was tall, human-shaped. It didn't flinch at the sound of the engine.
"Move aside," the guard barked, but the figure didn't move. He was barefoot, dressed in tattered clothes that clung to his thin frame like a scarecrow. His face was covered by a gas mask, old and rusted, with tubes disappearing into the backpack on his back. He held a long wooden staff with a yellow flag tied to it.
"Who is that?" Zack muttered, his voice low.
The guards didn't answer. One of them opened the door and stepped out. The masked man made a distorted sound, raising the flag like a warning. The guard in the van pulled a weapon, but the driver raised his hand.
"Don't fire."
"He's alone," Zack said.
"Something's off," Lily whispered. "That's not a survivor… not in the usual sense."
The guard walked back and got into the van.
"He's a marker. Ignore him and keep driving."
The van rolled forward, passing the man who never moved as they passed. The man turned his head slightly, just enough for one of the lenses of the mask to catch the light. Zack locked eyes with it.
The eyes were white. They had no pupils.
Zack jerked in his seat, turning his head like he hadn't been looking.
Neither of them spoke again for a long time. The guards didn't explain. They didn't even acknowledge what had happened.
But from that point, Lily noticed something.
The van sped up.